


The Teacher and Port Talbot

by Lionessinthedark



Series: An angel and a demon and the real reality [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Metafiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionessinthedark/pseuds/Lionessinthedark
Summary: Here is the background story - my version. I am sure that Owen Sheers version is better - both his manuscript to the 72-hour even in Port Talbot Easter 2011 and his book, that I haven't received yet - and the story belongs to him and to Michael Sheen and Dave McKean, who made the film, I still am waiting to watch. I have just watched a lot of videos on youtube and was deeply fascinated by this story.I haven’t seen the dvd  -‘ The gospel of us’ yet and I don’t know anything about Port Talbot and the event in 2011. I have just used the youtube videos and sources on the internet, so please forgive me my mistakes. And I have altered a bit in the story about The Teacher and Port Talbot.





	1. Memory loss

This is happening in a parallel universe or maybe in a dystopian future, where big multinational companies have so much power, that governments can’t do much against them and where big multinational companies have their own soldiers and armies, and can do whatever they want to do. So the lawlessness that sometimes would apply to third-world-counties in our world, could easily happen in Europe as well in this imaginative parallel world.

And here we see Port Talbot. A town abused and used by the heartless company ICU. The mayors and the city-councils have been obeying the company’s orders for more than 5 years. Before that, other companies have done almost what they pleased to do, but had been more limited by the then more efficient governments.

But strange things are happening as it look the gloomiest for the town – an underlying and not talked about threat is coming nearer – rumours are travelling around, but nothing substantial is yet to be found or seen or heard of.

A weird man had come to town – he is not speaking much. He just wanders the streets at strange hours dressed in a weird cape and carrying a staff – as if he was right out of a fairytale – and he has built a hut on the Aberafan Beach. A hut made of plastic and scraps and things brought in from the sea. He is just watching as the townspeople carry on with their lives.

And in the middle of it all we have the teacher. An unnamed man, who broke down. He had been told to teach and give on knowledge, which he knew was wrong, for years. The wrongness – the difference between what he knew deep down was right and then what he was told to teach – about their town and the companies and how things had happened, had slowly increased during the last 5 years and it had got significant worse the last couple of months. And it had gone even worse since the strange man came to town and built his hut on the beach.

The teacher had done some research for his teaching and had stumbled upon some secrets about the Company ICU, who had abused his town – for years. Who had promised wealth and progress and had not intended to keep one single of their promises. And who now planned to abuse the town even more – to make it impossible to live there, so people would move out, because the soil under some parts of the city contained rare and valuable metals. This was the information he had stumbled upon.

And in the chasm between his new knowledge and his obligations towards his family – most of all his daughter – and in his conflict with his wife and his parents and his friends, who refused to listen to his suspicions, he had got into his car late at night and had been driving around for hours in his car, before he ended up in the mountains behind Port Talbot. He had been sitting there the most of the night not knowing what to do. He had cried and prayed to a God he didn’t believe in any more, despite going to church now and then, and then he had fallen asleep there in his car.

For some reason he had had his camera in the car and had begun to film. First himself crying in the car and later he had continued filming as he during the next 40 days descended deeper and deeper into amnesia, because when he woke the next morning, there were holes in his memories and he just knew he had to stay away from the town. He had a vague idea about having a purpose and just accepted that he couldn’t remember much. And as the days went by, he lost more and more of himself and his memories – and it didn’t worry him one bit. He just kept on filming a few minutes every day. He somehow knew it was important – and he never questioned why the camera never ran out of energy. He just enjoyed the birds singing and the early and surprisingly warm spring sun. And as he wandered into the town at nights, he just accepted that he would find eatable food in bins and all the clothes he needed in plastic bags, he just sort of stumbled upon.

He didn’t find it strange that the coat and the boots and the sweaters were in his size or that the food in the bins was fresh. And whenever he was thirsty, he would find bottles with water. He had a lot of time to think, but he didn’t think much, just existed.

And in him a sense of purpose did build up – a sense that lead him to various places and he just let things happen. Almost carefree. He felt more and more how much he loved his town and the people in it and as his memories of what he was and who he had been, faded even more during the days, the purpose in him grew and he knew that he had to do something – at some point. And he just accepted his fate. He was not himself anymore, just a vessel for something growing and building inside. And that should have scared him – and it didn’t, which in itself should have scarred him even more.

At a point he found himself down at the beach early one morning. He just knew that something important was going to happen, but not right now and it was as if someone inside his head wanted to know if he would continue. He knew that he had to. He knew he was ready, and somehow he managed to let that voice inside him know that he was prepared to do almost anything.

No – not ‘almost’. He was prepared to do everything for the people and his town to avoid a lurking catastrophe. He didn’t know what that catastrophe was – just that it needed to be prevented. Maybe something like when parts of the town had been destroyed as the motorway had been built in 1966. Over 200 homes, 3 churches and several schools were destroyed to build ‘The Port Talbot Bypass’ – and rumors said that people had been killed as a warning to those, who hadn’t moved out of their houses fast enough.

But on his way back to the mountains, he got even more lost – didn’t know where to go. And he lost even more of his memory. He had been down at the beach in the morning – and now it was in the middle of the night. What had he been doing? The whole day had passed. He couldn’t even remember his own name anymore!

And for the first time he was really scarred.

And then.... he wasn’t afraid anymore. Now he knew what he had to do. And had accepted it. Had surrendered himself. He felt something growing and unfurling inside his mind. And he smiled...


	2. The baptism and a purpose

He walked towards the mountains behind Port Talbot and spent the night there and the next morning he went down to the beach very early. It was Good Friday morning. 5:30. He had been lost for 40 days, not knowing that people had searched for him – and then given up.

About 30 people were gathered and were looking expectantly at him. Some of them were strangely enough dressed in white bathrobes and some of them were standing in the water. Again he got scarred – and knelt down in the wet sand, suddenly overwhelmed. The men and women, who were standing in the cold sea water, where the waves almost did reach to their thighs, began to sing. And even a bit further out into the water was ‘The Stranger’ – the man who had been watching the town and its people for several months.

The Teacher got back on his feet, undressed slowly, took of his boots and socks, his warm winter-jacket, his sweater, his shirt and his vest until he was only wearing his trousers. It was windy and the water was cold, but he didn’t feel it. And he slowly walked through the water towards the man clad in a weird cape and standing as if the waves and the cold water didn’t affect him.

As he reached the strange man, the man grappled him, lifted him high up in the air as if he had been a doll and pushed him violently down under the surface. The teacher just let it happen to him. He didn’t fight it first, but then his survival instinct came to life and after what seemed like a minute, he roared out of the water – almost like a whale jumping high. And he was crying and whimpering....but he didn’t know why. People came nearer and carried him towards the beach, where they wrapped him in a strange blanket and carried him up into the dunes.

He felt his mind was blank – he didn’t know who he was or what had happened, but as they dried him and sang to him, he came more and more to his senses. He knew his name – ‘The Teacher’ and it was a fine name – and he knew his purpose.

The man in the cape now dressed him tenderly and hugged him. And The Teacher smiled. He knew his purpose. He had come to the town to listen to people. And he felt a new confidence fill him. He had a name and a purpose. And that was one thing more than a lot of people had ever had.

The rest of the day was spent in the dunes, where he was given food and people sang to him – and again he just existed. Now covered in several layers of clothing so he could keep warm – and even a blanket.

At the other end of the beach, at 3 PM, the town was getting itself ready preparing to welcome ICU and The Company Man. Hidden in the crowd were members of The Resistance, spreading propaganda against ICU. The Teacher didn’t know that others had found the same information as he had, and now he knew even less, not even his real name anymore. People were performing small tableaus of the history of the town – Romans arriving, people from the 18th century pretending to ride on horses – there were storytellers, circus-performers, orchestras – it was a marketplace. Loud and noisy and full of life.

The Company Man arrived from the seaside – together with ‘soldiers’ – security men - in dinghies. And the Company Man was welcomed by the mayor of Port Talbot.

Suddenly a man was shouting and a woman dressed in a bomber’s vest was standing in the middle of the crowd – people ran out of the way and the woman was standing there crying. The man threatened to kill the Company Man. People were screaming and were trying to get as far away from the woman in the yellow vest as they could.

A calm, level voice said “I see you” – and The Teacher approached the woman, ignoring the threats from the would-be bomber and the armed security guys, and he calmly removed the explosives and took the vest away from the woman – and nothing happened. “Tell me your story..”, he said with his calm and soothing voice.

One of the police-officers said, “You..you are the one. The teacher who has been missing!” and pointed at him.

And The Teacher just calmly said, “I don’t know. I don’t remember”

Within seconds the drama was over: the woman safe, the bomber arrested and the Company Man hustled away by his security team.

The Teacher and the woman just disappeared. It turned out that they had just walked towards the town, but along the river. And a lot of people had followed them.

Now about 100 people were sitting on the river-shore and listening to him talking about how they all were important and that they should remember their stories and let no one erase them and then he laughed and said, “We have only these 6 sandwiches – ham and butter – but if we share – if everybody takes a bite and then pass it on – then everybody will get a small piece and no one will have none.” – And even if people would never have dreamt about sharing with other people like that, biting into the same sandwich, they just did as he said. He joked a bit and said, “Jay – there must be 5000 people here, right?” They were only about 100, but everybody got a bite – and strangely enough it was enough to sate their hunger. They weren’t even hungry later that evening, even if they hadn’t had supper. Only had had that one bite of a sandwich.

Later that day the Company Man addressed an assembly of people in a secure site at the town hall, but not before an outbreak of anti-ICU shouts and chanting angered the police. The Company Man condemned the protesters, and talked about the new project of ICU – ‘The Passover Project’, a new road which he claimed would change the town radically for the better, bringing new hope and new jobs. And he was urging people to tell about those traitors, who were enemies of the progress and fortune that this Passover-project would bring to Port Talbot, even if they were part of their family or their neighbours.

  
He had barely finished speaking when distraught families arrived outside the secured area, carrying what possessions they could, telling they had been forced from their homes at gunpoint to make way for the new road.

  
When The Company Man tries to reassure the crowd and said ‘nothing like that would ever happen’ there were shouting and yelling, and a woman protester was shot – The Teacher caught her and cradled her as she lost consciousness or maybe even died

The Company man was worried as he recognized the man from the beach – the one who had disarmed the bomber-vest so easily. Had he a hidden agenda?

Asked who he was, by the Company Man, and asked if he wanted something? Power? Respect? He just said, “I’ve come to listen”, with a strong and confident voice.

The Security Chief ordered people out of the way and carried the young woman away on his back. And The Teacher hurried away and was quickly hidden in the crowd.

And then people were ordered to go home – and since there were armed soldiers standing on the roofs – they obeyed.

And The Teacher and his followers just vanished up in the mountains behind Port Talbot. As the night did fall, The Teacher sat down, smiling as he looked down on the town. He wrapped himself in the blanket and lay down to sleep.


	3. Saturday

The next day – Saturday – he was at Llewellyn Street – the street which had been halfway destroyed together with other parts of the city in the 60ties as the Motorway had been build and he met a disabled girl, talked to her - and her father Simon began to follow The Teacher. It was at the same street where Alfie – the man who was haunted by the ghosts from the destroyed houses, began to follow The Teacher too.

Later they were down at the Shopping Centre – and The Teacher’s mother was there and his brothers – but he didn’t recognize them. He said kindly that he was sorry for not recognizing them. One brother accused him of being selfish and cruel and left with their crying mother, the other one talked to him more calmly and then The Teacher left.

He gathered even more followers as he walked around in the town. Two homeless twins with no name, who lived near the cemetery and tried to remember everyone buried there, and whom he called ‘Lee’ and ‘John’ - ‘Legion’ because they were one and many at the same time, began to follow him. A fisher, by the name of Peter and even his own brothers, Kyle and Rhys, whom he didn’t recognize.

He was walking around – observing. Listening to peoples’ stories. Helping a young woman, who cried because her various boyfriends hadn’t treated her nicely and he was visiting the refugees’ camp, where the people driven out of their homes had made houses of plastic and wood. And who were strangely passive and almost invisible in the eyes of the other people in the town. But The Teacher saw them and talked to them and most of all - he listened to them.

Later that night, The Teacher and his friends had a gathering at Peter's local club. Talking, laughing, eating sandwiches and drinking beer. The club was filled to the brim and the owner had put extra tables up on the podium. The Teacher was sitting there with his friends.

The Teacher rose and told how important it was to share – and he took some of the sandwiches on the table and gave each of the people, sitting at the table, a piece.

“Remember..”, he said, “Yesterday – we were many – but somehow alone. Remember that deep down we are one. One body. One body that is a town. Harm one of us and you harm the whole town.” And then he smiled and said, “Eat...eat!” and took the first bite.

They cheered too and drank some beer.

The Teacher’s mother approached him as he was sitting in the club. She gave him a photo of him and his daughter, but he didn't remember anything. Neither the day it had been taken nor his daughter. The encounter visibly moved him, because he felt that is was something he ought to remember.

Different people were entertaining – a man was singing opera and afterwards a band was playing, when suddenly the neon-lights were flicked on and a group of security men from ICU busted in and arrested the singer and the rest of the band– rather violently - and the party stopped. The laughter and the feeling of being safe were totally gone in the harsh neon light.

The security left with the singer and the rest of the band in handcuffs and everybody just left the club. Outside an even bigger crowd was still gathered – drinking beer from an outside bar, not knowing what just had happened inside the club.

The Teacher and his friends were just sitting there, outside on a stone fence, shocked by the violence of the ICU security.

The Teacher realised that he had to do something and walked back into the club and went over to the owner, who was cleaning up a bit at the bar.

“Who called the ICU security?”, The Teacher asked calmly.

“I did.”, said the owner and continued as The Teacher just looked at him ,”I am a law-abiding man. And didn’t you listen to what the singer just sang! That is against the law and....”

“It is just words..”, replied The Teacher.

“And words can kill! I would very much like to keep this job in this club. It is my living. I have wife and kids – and our home is where the new road is going to be built. I would very much like to be re-homed, thank you very much. So I obey the law. And he was one of those rebels. We can’t have that. Last time – with the big road and everything, it turned out to be all right for the most of us. It is going to be all right again. With that Passover project.”

The Teacher just looked at him and then he said, “The **most** of us? What about the rest? The law, you say. Who’s law? ICU’s law? Since when are they the police and the government and make laws?”

“Where have you lived the last couple of years? Under a stone? They have the power – didn’t you know that? What can we do?”

The Teacher nodded and then he said, “You better call them again and tell there is another rebel outside.”

The owner frowned, “Who?”

The Teacher smiled and said with his soft and at the same time strong voice, “Me.”

“But...but you are not one of those rebels!”

The Teacher smiled again, “Am I not? Well...ICU is a puss-filled abomination on our town and the sooner they are out of this town, the better. Rebellious enough for you?”

And he turned around and walked out of the pub over to a small patch of a garden between two rows of houses. There – under the light from a lamppost, he knelt down, and was shaking, all too well knowing what was going to happen now. His friends stayed away. They hadn’t seen him.

Then he took a deep breath and got back onto his feet and noticed a roofer at work on a nearby house. A bit strange so late in the evening. The roofer reminded him of his father, and for a brief moment, he thought he recognised him. The roofer explained that he has lost a piece of slate from the roof and asked The Teacher to find it, calling him ‘son’.

The Teacher searched for it, but when he found it, it was broken,

“It is broken”, he said.

“Give me the slate, son.”, the roofer said.

And the roofer explained that sometimes you have to sacrifice one piece of slate to realise that the whole roof needs to be fixed. That the slate needs to fall down and be broken, so people would listen – and mend the rest of the roof, before it is too late.

“Give me the slate, son, just pass it on.”, the roofer repeated

And in one last moment of fear, The Teacher asked, knowing what it really meant to give the roofer the broken slate, “Do I have to?”, with a slight trembling voice.

And the roofer said, “Yes, I am afraid you do, son.”

The Teacher took a deep breath and looked away.

“Son?”

“Yes, dad?”, his voice was breaking.

“Pick up the slate, son. – Pick it up now.”

And The Teacher knelt down on one leg and picked up the piece of slate and understood and accepted his fate. Understanding that he was the slate that needed to be sacrificed so the whole town could be mended.

And he gave the roofer his slate – just - The Teacher just reached his arm out with the broken piece and the broken slate was suddenly in the hand of the roofer.

As the sirens could be heard from a distance, the roofer asked The Teacher if he was going on a journey.

“Yes, I think so”, said The Teacher, his voice breaking a little.

At that moment, Peter was being quizzed by a local news team about whether he is affiliated with The Teacher, but he denied ever knowing him. “I don’t know the man”, he yelled. 3 times.

The local police arrived and the local police officer, Sgt. Phillips, arrested The Teacher. The local police took him away from the little piece of garden and now both his mother and his followers noticed what was happening, but they couldn’t do anything. He was taken to the back of a flat-bed truck, where the Security Chief from ICU interrogated him, told him he knew everything about him, about his failed marriage and how he never was going to see his daughter any more. He accused The Teacher of leading an uprising against ICU and told him that the people of the town looked to up him as their king. That saving Johanna from the bomber’s vest had been a stunt.

At that point, as the Security Chief was yelling at The Teacher, asking him over and over again if he was the king of this town, if he was prepared to take that responsibility, The Teacher realised that he was the only one, who could see and hear the roofer and as the roofer asked again if he was ready for his journey, and asked again what a slate was compared to the whole roof and said “Remember...small sacrifices..” and “It is important to be ready....are you ready?”

The Teacher finally yelled. “I am.” – answering the roofer’s question more than the questions from the Security Chief.

And the local police was ordered to take him away.

The Teacher spent the night in a cell at the local police station. He had been given a blanket in the cell, as he had only been wearing his shirt and no jacket and the nights were not warm. He had a lot of time thinking about what the ICU would do to him. Probably kill him – if they could get away with it. Signing his death warrant this moment, probably.

Sitting on the bench in the cell, The Teacher suddenly felt a presence beside him. It was young girl, and she shouldn’t be in jail! As he asked her wherefrom she came, she didn’t say anything, just looked at him with a smile.

He told her that he was in danger, but it was all right because he was a grown man, and if he could save her, he would. He admitted that he was a bit scared and she smiled and patted his hands, and he felt that she put something in his hands – as he looked into his hands it was a small pebble from the beach and as he looked up again, she was gone.


	4. Sunday

The next day, Sunday, The Teacher and the bomber from the beach, by the name Barry, were brought to an impromptu platform near the Town Hall around 4 PM. Both in handcuffs and both with their heads covered in hoods. And a mockery of a trial was performed. The Teacher knew the outcome – even if the Company Man pretended that it was the ‘vox populi’ – the voice of the people, which should decide the faith of the two men. He accused The Teacher of destroying society – of asking people to lose everything they had: houses, jobs – everything provided by ICU. The bomber challenged ICU – but didn’t destroy it. The Teacher just answered – quietly – that yes – he didn’t challenge the ICU – he would make it unnecessary. And to a lot of the inquisitive questions and accusations, the Teacher just calmly answered, “If you say so..”

The Teacher was found guilty by the Company Man and Barry was set free. Peter tried to stop the events happening by declaring that he did know The Teacher, but it was too late.

The Teacher was dragged into the closed off Shopping Centre and was beaten by the security team. They kicked him and hit him with their hands and boots, kicked him around, flung him onto the floor and at a point his face hit one of the benches and finally, as his shirt was torn and bloody, one of the guys went into a shop and found a woman’s nightgown and a peignoir, put it on him and said mockingly, “Look – his royal robe.”

And one of the other made a crown out of barbed wire and pressed it down on his head, “Look – his crown.” The Teacher began to bleed where the barbed wire cut into his skin.

Finally The Teacher was dragged out – wounded - dizzy – almost not able to stand on his feet. Bleeding from numerous wounds - and the Security Chief ordered him thrown into the back of a van. And ordered the local police to follow them to the next place – a place at the other end of the town. About 5 km’s away.

At that point Sgt Phillips and the rest of the local police refused to participate. He was the first to say no and the rest followed. They threw their hats on the ground to show that they didn’t want to participate anymore.

The teacher was driven to a local carpenter, where the security had found planks and had made a cross. The Teacher was handed that cross and forced to walk, carrying it as he staggered along. They even gave him a new crown, made of long twigs from a wild rose-bush. He whimpered as one of the security soldiers, wearing gloves, pressed it down over his head. And more blood trickled down his face.

A lot of people were watching. In silence – they didn’t dare speaking up. There were too many armed soldiers by now. It was not clear where they had come from – but it was as if there number had risen more than 10 times since the day before yesterday.

The Teacher began to walk – surrounded by armed guards with their fingers on the trigger.

A procession had been formed – even with a drum playing. That was the only way Simon could help the Teacher: giving him a drum to follow as he staggered towards the beach, a long warm, unbearable journey away.

Other people had brought drums too and other instruments and The Teacher could hear the drums and he followed them. The procession of nearly all the people in the town began to walk. Following the beat of the drums and the music towards the beach.

The Teacher was just staggering along – carrying the heavy cross that chafed his shoulders. He was in an odd state of mind – barely conscious, but knowing that something important was going to happen, when he reached the beach. He could feel the pain in his body, but at the same time, he was sort of numb – his mind barely there. He was panting, breathing with an open mouth – he could feel the blood tickling down his face and into his eyes and the blood dripping from his mouth, where he had bit his tongue as they had kicked him.

His vision had narrowed down – he could hear the drums and see his feet – all the rest was just pain and blurriness - and blackness was creeping in from the periphery of his vision. The only thing he could do – the only thing his mind was narrowed down to, was moving one foot in front of another – and following the beat of the drums.

At a point The Teacher collapsed near the Shopping Centre where he had been beaten half to death and the Security Chief allowed that he was carried inside the Shopping Centre for a pause in his humiliation and torture. The Teacher would be a bad example, if he died before he did reach the beach and what they had planned for him there!

He was carried into the Shopping Centre, where his mother bathed his wounds and replaced his crown with one of roses. He talked to his mother in a whisper and told her that he knew he was going to be killed –and that he knew it was a necessity. Even if he still didn’t recognize her.

His followers were watching in horror – but didn’t dare do anything. There were still too many armed soldiers.

“I am ready”, he had whispered to his mother. His torn shirt and the nightgown had been replaced with a blue shirt and the blood had been washed from his face.

And then the ICU security fetched him. Almost dragged him down from the place where he had got some very much needed rest. They placed the cross on his shoulders and he was forced to carry the heavy cross again towards the beach, where a platform had been built. The ICU security ordered people out of the centre. “For their own security”, they lied.

People followed The Teacher and some did help as he collapsed again, but the ICU security and suddenly a lot of more armed security members prevented them from helping him a lot. Even if they allowed someone to carry the cross for a short distance and they allowed people to support him, as he could barely walk at a point. And he was given some water too. People were silent – horrified – subdued – scared.

As it grew darker, it was now around 7 PM in the evening, he was still staggering, carrying the cross – alone – towards his death on the beach.

But the town followed him from a distance – as close as they dared. With wary eyes on the armed security members. Singing and drumming - and somehow it helped The Teacher – gave him a bit more energy. Not that it would be an easier death at the beach – because it wouldn’t – but he had a feeling that dying of exhaustion on the way there, was not a part of the plan – not ICU’s plan - and not the Roofer’s plan.

The procession continued until it was getting dark. They had reached the beach, where a podium had been built from all of the doors from the houses of the people killed or forced away from their homes. A mockery to show them how powerless they were.

The Teacher – dizzy – bleeding – exhausted from the beating and the carrying of the heavy cross - was just standing there as the cross was lifted from his shoulders. Someone removed the blue shirt from him and ripped his vest open and let it fall down over his trousers, exposing his chest, showing his bruises and wounds. He was just standing there – letting the things happen to him. Barely conscious.

He was stripped of his boots and socks, but kept on his trousers – they were at least giving him the last piece of decency not to let him be crucified totally naked – and people could only watch in horror as he was moved to another bigger cross and forced down on it - his arms stretched out to each side – his legs bent, so his feet were almost parallel to the wood of the cross - and then and nails were forced first through his wrists and then through his naked feet.

He did scream in the utmost agony as the rather big iron nails were forced through flesh and bone, destroying his tissue on their path. The crushing of the bones in his wrist could be heard. The nails caused him to bleed and scream because of the torture, but those men who did it, avoided the bigger arteries so his death would be prolonged. They had tied his arms with straps to the crossbeam of the cross. Not to help him, but to make sure that he could survive a tiny bit longer. Prolonging the torture.

As the cross was raised and the weight of his body was mostly supported by the nails in his feet and his wrists, he was screaming loudly again – almost like a child wailing. Both on his exhale and his inhale – using up the oxygen in his system. Screaming so loudly that every person present could hear it.

Every scream of his utmost agony tore through their hearts – but they were powerless. Some people covered their ears. And a lot of them were crying as he continued to scream.

And then something weird happened –

The Teacher stopped screaming, took a few staggering breaths and looked around. A new consciousness was to be seen in his eyes and he began to talk – something that should have been impossible. His memory of who he was and all the stories that people had told him those 2 days, before he was arrested, filled his mind and he yelled out everything, he could remember. A strange light appeared behind him and that light contained faint pictures of those memories too. People didn’t know what to believe. Did others see the same pictures?

And he kept on talking for more than 5 minutes. How could he do that? He was crucified – dying! He cried out every secret and memory of the town.... even older memories from the town from a long time ago.

.... And then his voice got more and more faint – he paused – there were bigger and bigger pauses between his words now – One last ‘I remember...’ and then he stopped, whimpered, took another stuttering breath and finally he sagged down – not being able to breathe anymore, because of the strain on his muscles in his chest. His abdomen was inflated; because hanging on a cross – even just tied and not even nailed, makes it almost impossible to exhale after a while - and he managed one last stuttering exhale and sagged down even further – his heart had stopped.

– He was dead.

People watched in horror – not knowing what to do – as if they woke up from a trance – realising what they just had seen. A man getting killed in a torturous way in front of them. No one said a single sound – many were crying silently. And asking themselves why they hadn’t done anything? It was as if the silence after his screaming and confessions was buzzing in their ears. An ear-shattering silence.

At a podium nearby, the Company Man, the Mayor and several people were standing – looking as if they couldn’t really believe what had just happened – well not so much the Company Man – he looked as if things had happened just as he wanted it to happen. He went to the microphone and said, “Let this be a warning to everybody who tries to destroy our society. We will punish them. In the hardest way possible. The survival of your society is more important than one single man’s life. He asked for it himself – admitting that he wanted to destroy us – you – your town. I wash my hands.”

People couldn’t believe what they had just heard – but they were too stunned to react.

And The Teacher’s memories and those faint pictures somehow filled them with a tiny sliver of hope – with an idea that . yes – they had those memories – and some of them were painful – but maybe it could change? They could change if they found the courage and strength – together.

The Teacher’s followers began to prepare to get him down from the cross. The Security people were just watching – but with their fingers on the triggers.

His followers wrapped him in long white pieces of cloth that could carry his weight. They got the nails backwards out through the cross and his flesh and lowered him gently onto the ground, down on a pile of blankets, his head lolling and his body being an awkward dead weight. He had stopped bleeding. But there were bruises and injuries all over his body. Worst of course on his wrists and feet. 

They wrapped him in a shroud and his mother cradled his body and sang to him. Her voice breaking from time to time. People were still watching in silence – horrified.

Behind her, The Stranger in his weird cape and his head covered in the hood, was now visible and he banged his staff against the podium a few times, as if he was going to say something – but he remained silent.

Johanna approached The Teacher’s dead body in order to remove the shroud so the town could see their hero one last time....

As she began to remove the shroud, The Stranger on the podium exclaimed in a loud bellowing strong voice, 'It is finished!”

And as Johanna removed the shroud totally, The Teacher’s body was gone and in his place were hundreds of flowers!

And then The Stranger threw back his hood and shouted, “..... it has begun!' and lifted his arms.

It was The Teacher!

Alive!

Even if the closest could see the wounds on his wrists...

– and people roared!

...........

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the videos on youtube
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGBczC2_ydM  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lq2bsO_TtUE  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99b9C4POEIk&t=1241s  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sudfpsyYvvg  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qWWw8QLG44E  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6olVrIqPsHI  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rx6BzGCmJDY  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vl-M6JV5o38  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Nw9TErpMf8  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igcPPvGItRA  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mbl_4VJxGG0  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8boQK3TRANQ  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iuQy0onkYE8  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o4Y14kXUE44


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